


Technopalooza

by Carbon65



Series: Claims Adjusted [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A bunch of cool people gather, A crazy thing happened on the way to a talk, Denver International Airport, Diabetes, Diabetic Character, Food is expensive, Gen, Lunch, Science conferences are awesome, Tony Stark funds big science things, hypoglycemia sucks, scientists are crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/pseuds/Carbon65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jos Woodhouse is pretty sure Stark Technopalooza is heaven. Or what heaven would be like if she had a few more filters. ... Or, that one time Maeg's sister ran into Tony and chaos ensued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Technopalooza

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kar).



> A few things to know before you start. Jos comes across as way more of Mary Sue than Maegs. And, this fic is a bit more of a stretch. On the one hand, I can totally see it as being in character for most of the individuals involved. On the other hand, Jos is taking everything far too well. I also swear to God, this did not start as a fic featuring a chronic disease. And then, it was 4 am and I was going a little crazy, and I really just wanted to see Tony being a good guy. And, this sort of qualifies as good guy Tony. Plus, I never write unreliable narrators. ...  
> tl;dr: Jos is not Maegs, and at the moment, she’s a little unfocused.

Dateline: January 2014  
Denver Convention Center, Denver, Colorado

Jos Woodhouse is pretty sure she’s died and gone to heaven. Or, they way heaven would be if she designed it and Tony Stark funded it. There is shiny, sexy tech everywhere, and serious conversations about things Jos happens to quite like. There are a few things to remind her that she was still present on earth, though. She is pretty sure that in heaven, her body might not entirely suck at being a body. The stabilizer on her knee is simply a comforting weight, but her feet would like to communicate that they generally disapprove of any heel on her shoes, or pointy toes. Her wrist isn’t sure if its sore, or just being testy. But, these, and the flurry of butterflies in her stomach are simply minor annoyances. Stark Technopalooza is awesome.

The exposition space in the main ballroom is filled with poster presenters and corporate vendors. You can look at the latest microscopes or telescopes, play with batteries that are supposed to last a hundred years (as long as you switched out the water tank every so often), ogle the new Stark Prosthetics, and pick up all sorts of free samples. This is not Jos’ first convention, but that doesn’t stop her from collecting the free issues of Science and Nature for “Bus Reading”. She is pleased to note her lab’s latest work is represented in the trial issues.

As she walks onto the main convention floor, butterflies in her stomach turn into gas bubbles and start percolating up into her chest, making her heart race. Jos passes between a group buzzing about a multispectral telescope, a pair who stopped in the middle of the crowded atrium to pull out a notebook and start sketching equations and a trio debating the merits of various brands of fluorescent dyes. In Jos’ opinion, the expensive ones are worth the money since they come in a wider range of colors and are more photostable. Shipping is ridiculous, though.

The five-day conference is divided into themed sections: Clean Energy, Green Technology, Envisioning the Future (a bunch of optics nerds in the room), We are Not Alone and StarkCares. Jos spends most of her time jumping between the StarkCares, the Optics people, and her actual events (We are Not Alone). She's suppressed to discover she is not the only one in her events _not_ talking about Aliens.

She’s seen Dan Axelrod, one of the minds behind TIRF microscopy, and listened to a panel discussion between J. Craig Venter and Charles Xavier about how the X gene will change the ability of genetic studies to look at disease. Then, there was that talk by the PI who made his grad student swim in the Charles River. Her boss could be demanding, and ask for some very strange things, but swimwear had only been required for the lab inner-tube water polo team. The sport was as ridiculous as it sounded.

Jos is planning to attend Tony Stark’s keynote address about the future of clean energy tonight. And, she’ll give her poster on the gut microbiome tomorrow (A polite way to say poop). But, first, food. Specifically, the free food promised by her program and the small tear-away coupons. Jos isn’t sure if she’s hungry or nauseated, but it seems like the worst thing that will happen if she guesses wrong and eats is that her vomit will taste like overly sweet bile instead of just regular bile. It’s a gamble she’s will to take.

Jos joins the line that’s already forming. She’s not the only person with the idea of getting back some of the $75 admittance ticket.

Behind her, there is a badly concealed stage whisper. “It’s her, Pepper! Damn it, I know a face.”

The murmured response is too low for Jos to here.

“What’s her name? The Insurance girl. The one who doesn’t speak geek.”

Another low murmur, which is swept away by the crowded, noisy exhibition space.

Jos feels her percolating nerves transform into something else. It’s an old, familiar villain, someone she’s known since she was a child. She focuses on sliding her attendee folder out of her black messenger bag, and finding the tear-away slips for food. She fumbles with the folder and the pieces of paper. She knows what is happening, but she is doing her best. She presses the paper between her lips, keeping her saliva from wetting it. Her lips are dry stone dry, and her body is too hot. But, she just needs to hold on, hold on, hold on.

Jos fishes in the front cargo pockets of her messenger bag. Her cell phone, planner, and the assortment of cheap ballpoints embossed with vendor logos can’t solve her problems. The crusty mint pressed into the bottom of a pocket might tide her over, if she can just get it open. Although, it might just make the problem worse. Things usually get worse before they get better. So, she scans the room for other options. There are lines and price tags everywhere. Jos is almost sure she can model two-dimensional isotropic diffusing using multivariate calculus, but she isn’t entirely sure how many bills to hand the barista for a soda that costs $1.76 plus tax.

So, Jos does what she always does in this situation, the thing that makes Sophia and Adam kind of crazy.   
She focuses on taking breathes. Oxygen is good.   
She shoves her hands into her pockets. They don’t vibrate quite so badly in her pockets.  
She wills the caters to bring out the food faster.  
She wills the caters to bring out the food faster.

The line has moved, and she hasn’t been paying attention. She takes a step forward, following the person in front of her. She is not entirely sure what posesses a man wearing black pants to pair them with bright white athletic shoes. Step. Step. They look really tacky. What's worse is that he is not the only one.

Her ankle decides that it should collapse. Because when you’re paying attention to important things like breathing and keeping your heart beating and staying upright and fashion emergencies and ignoring your ankle, it will do stupid things to retaliate.

Jos tries to get up, but her muscles aren’t cooperating at the moment. The world goes bright in the middle and dark around the edges. And then, there’s a hand at her elbow, pulling her out of the crowd.

“Hey, Insurance Girl, are you alright?”

She’s sitting on a bench and there’s a dark haired man kneeling beside her, and a red-head hovering nearby.

“Yes.” She manages to get the word out, but her voice is high and shaky. “Yes, I’m okay. I just need some lemonade.”

“Go get a cup of lemonade. Actually, get a whole bottle of lemonade.” The man motions toward his assistant. “And some cookies, too. Cookies good?”

A white plastic cup appears in front of her. She downs it quickly. It’s cold and sour and it makes invisible earthquake in her legs worse.

Jos fishes in her bag until she finds the little black case. She pulls open the zipper, and busies her hands over it. The motions are practiced and mechanical. Jos’ left pinky is bright with blood before it enters her mouth. It comes out a second later, when she gets handed another cup.

She's pretty sure the dark-haired man is staring. She's also pretty sure that his white shirt is glowing, so her grip on reality may not be fully there. Maybe, if she's lucky, he's Tony Stark, and she can get him to sign the consent forms so she can sample him for her thesis. Because she hasn't been talking and wishing and hoping to do that for weeks.

And then the Technopalooza rent-a-medics are there. She’s too dazed to realize how the arrive on the scene, or say anything about the dark haired man who is still hovering by the bench with the cup of lemonade.

Her name is Jos Woodhouse, as in Jocelyn, not like the director. She really liked Dollhouse and Much Ado about Nothing.  
  
She’s diabetic, and it was just hypoglycemia. No, it doesn’t happen often, which is why it hit her so particularly bad. ... Her blood sugar was 42 when she tested, but she’s had two glasses of lemonade. ... Yes, she’ll test again.  
  
She didn’t fall because she was low. She fell because her knees suck at being knees. ...Because she has arthritis in her knees. ... Because that’s what happens when you’re body decides to make antibodies against your synovium as your twenty-second birthday gift. So, yes, Rheumatoid Arthritis. And Depression. And hypothyroid, but she’s pretty sure that isn’t relevant to her low blood sugar.  
Here’s the list of medications she’s taking. Right here, in her phone. ... She’d prefer they didn’t photocopy the screen, but if they have to?  
  
They can take her blood pressure, if they want, and give her more juice. ... Except that she’s feeling better. ... The one scar is from when the DNA electrophoresis gel apparatus attacked her during her masters. And that one is from her rats. Because Not-Big-But-Bigger-Than-  
Little Shit refuses to let her cut his nails. But, he’s a damn handsome rat. ... Oh, the needle marks. Yeah, she was in the ER a couple days ago. ...Ketones. Well, ketones with the wrong kinetics. They’re supposed to be going away after six hours, not spike. So, she got some saline, only they botched the one line. ... And then her doctor made her do blood work as a follow up. But, here she is, two days later. It’s just fine. Nothing to worry about.  
  
No, she’s not here alone. A few of her labmates are around ... somewhere. No, no, do not page Mark or Drew or Kyo. Don’t call them either. They’re probably busy somewhere. Mark is giving a talk today, about the latest software release. And they’re running mini sessions tomorrow and Friday. Plus, she doubts Kyo is entirely sober. Because he and the boss closed out a bar last night, and then her boss carried Kyo home. ... No, she wasn’t drinking... well, she had one. Maybe two. But they were hours apart. And she wasn’t even that drunk. She didn’t try to solve anyone’s major life crisis, just asked to sample someone’s prosthetic hand.

Somehow, despite the word vomit and her still shaking, Jos convinces the paramedics that she’s a semi-responsible adult, and okay to be let out on her own.

The dark haired man, the one who’d confused her with her sister Maegs for some reason, is still hovering nearby. Jos is okay with being confused with other people, it happens frequently enough. She has a girl next door vibe that makes her pretty interchangeable with every other dark-haired twenty something in the room. It’s more rare that someone calls her by her sister’s name. It happens when she goes out with her mother, and she’s the daughter. No, the other daughter. But, people do not confuse Jos and Maegs at science conventions. And, maybe that’s why she agrees to go to lunch.

They end up in a swanky restaurant in the walking mall near the convention center. The blue bear looms outside, and Jos gives him a cursory nod. She doesn’t know why she feels the need to acknowledge the bear every time she passes him, but she does. (She’s pretty sure the bear is male, although she’s never actually checked for genetalia. It’s the kind of curiosity that she can normally curtail, but...)

 There is a discussion about getting a car and finding a restaurant  somewhere else, but Jos isn’t stupid. Well, she’s getting her PhD in biochemistry, so maybe she is stupid, but Jos is practical enough that she’s managed to feed herself for the past six years of post baccalaureate education. The dark haired stranger and his red-headed assistant look vaguely familiar and they know Maegs. But, Jos occasionally creepers on her sister’s facebook page, especially during that phase when Maegs tried dating a boy. And, Maegs has some weird friends, like the guys from Boston who raised Alligators in the closet of their dorm room. Jos is not about to get into a car with someone who keeps reptiles in their closet.

The maitre d settles the three of them at a prime table in the corner. It’s secluded for the small, crowded restaurant. The last time Jos was at a restaurant that had a lunch time maitre d, it was an Indian buffet with Sophia, Elle, and Elle’s boy of the month (who she’s finally going to marry in a few months) where the maitre d also filled their water glasses, brought out a lentil pancake and calculated their 15% discount (with valid student ID).

“I’m Jocelyn.” Better to get awkward introductions over before they get to splitting up their bills. “Well, Jos.”

“I’m Tony. And this is Pepper. How are you liking the convention?”

That’s the point that Jos realizes exactly who she’s eating lunch with. Which explains why Pepper gave her a hairy eyeball the entire time she insisted they have lunch within walking distance. It also explains why neither of her dining companions has batted an eyelid at the prices on the menu. The school is providing her with a per diem, and it’s generous, but she’s more of a ten dollar entre person. For the price of a cup of soup and half a salad, Jos could probably put a downpayment on the surgery to get Not-Big-But-Bigger-Than-Little-Shit fixed so he doesn’t dribble everywhere. Or else pay for a bunch of rat diapers for both of the shits... if they make rat diapers. Although, considering how hard it is to convince the shits to wear their harness leash, diapers would probably be next to impossible.

It also takes a minute for the question to register. “Well. Heaven. Good. Except the low blood sugar thing.” Jos buries her bright red cheeks in the over-priced menu. Seriously, who would pay ten dollars for a can of White Rascal Ale when the Avery Brewery is an hour bus ride and you can get a six pack for the same price at any liquor store? Or, two beers and two thirds of an order of sweet potato tots at the brewery.

Pepper gives her boss an “I told you so” look.

“So, unspeakably good?” Stark asks. He turns to Pepper. “We’ll have to tell Greenbean what he’s missing.”

“Yeah, really good. I liked the talk about chocolate.” Jos relaxes a little. “Having it in the Green Technology section was genius.”

The talk had begun with the directive, “Save the earth. It’s the only planet with chocolate.” It had focused on the development of alternative methods for farming, processing and distribution which decreased dependence on fossil fuels and made sure profits ended up back in the hands of the produceres, not the middle men.

“I like to think so,” Stark says with a winning smile.

“Not your genius.” Pepper swats at him gently.

The waiter interrupts them. Pepper sticks to water. Tony orders one of those ten dollar beers, and Jos feeds her caffeine addiction.

“Should you be drinking that?” Tony motions toward the Dr Pepper on the table. The _regular_ Dr Pepper. “Should she be drinking that?”

Getting mad at Tony Stark is not a good idea. Getting mad at Tony Stark is not a good idea. Getting mad at Tony Stark is not a good idea. It doesn’t matter if he’s pulled the grenade pin of one of her major psychological issues. Getting mad at Tony Stark is a bad idea. Especially when seh's dreamed of getting his permission to sample him for her thesis project and might actually get it.

Jos takes a long, slow sip before answering. “Considering you just rescued me from low blood sugar, its fine.”

“I don’t believe you. You told the EMTs that you were in the hospital last week.” Stark takes a sip of beer. “This is good stuff.”

“It’s local. The brewery has awesome food.” Jos fiddles with her napkin. “The hospital thing was an accident. You can’t tell me you’ve never forgotten batteries for your calculator, or something.”

“I’m a genius.” Tony is a little too proud of himself.

Pepper huffs quietly. “You’ve always have calculator batteries because JARVIS monitors your devices and recharges them as needed.”

“And I built JARVIS to do that. So, I should get the credit.” Stark is still smug. “So, no, I don’t run out of batteries.”

Jos takes another sip. “Well, I don’t have a JARVIS, whatever that is. And, I happened to be in the middle of an analysis, and just, sort of forgot to get more batteries. And, I take special ones.”

“You run on batteries?” Tony is turning visably pale. “Special batteries?” He shoots his assistant a look which screams, _There is something wrong with this girl. Help me please._

“And caffeine.” Jos grins, wolfishly, and motions toward her empty glass.

“Like, rechargable special batteries?” Stark is distracted.

Jos fumbles awkwardly with her messenger bag under the table, and produces a pink flowered make up case. The contents appear to be a jumble of brightly colored feminine hygiene products, syringes which may or may not be previously used but probably aren’t sterile, and a roll of athletic tape. Jos finds a battery, and shoves it across the table. “Like expensive one-use-only lithium batteries that go in the landfill.” She re-zips the case and shoves it back into the caverns of her messenger bag. “Well, I recycle them at the landfill.”

“Why not use rechargeables? They’d be cheaper, easier to keep track of and better for the environment.” Pepper voices the obvious solution.

“Because you can’t guarantee consistency with rechargeable batteries. And I’m not trusting my life to something that I know will be inconsistent. There are enough other places in my life that are both random and stochastic.” Jos reaches back, and pulls a pin from her hair.

Tony gets a little boy’s grin. “We should put in arc reactor in! Can I see it?”

The dark haired girl unbuttons her slightly worn cardigan and sticks her hand down her dusty blue shirt, and pulls out a small electronic something the size of a business card. She slips the other hand under her shirt, near her lower back, and then tugs. She passes the device, trailing a clear cord, to Tony.

“This is my insulin pump. It gives me insulin that keeps me alive. Unless it runs out of insulin, or batteries, or I forget it at home.”

Stark raises an eyebrow, and eyes the device suspiciously. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to take it off. Won’t you like, die?”

Jos’ hairy eyeball has been perfected by twelve years of a rambunctious brother, four years as an honorary bro in an all boy’s dorm, and six years of work in a field dominated by man-boys. In her current lab, males outnumber females more than three to one. “Do you shower with your phone? ... No, wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

Tony picks up the pump gingerly. It is slightly slick with boob sweat. He presses a few buttons, and makes a few self satisfied grunts. “I could make this better...” He muses. “Pepper, does Stark Medical make insulin pumps?”

Pepper is already typing a query into her iPad. “No, I don’t see them. It’s mostly artificial joints, prosthetics, burn care, and heart valves.”

Jos reaches across the table, and points out features. “Here’s the battery.” She indicates the other side. “And here’s the insulin. The rest are electronic magic.”

“Electronic magic?” Tony untwists the cap that holds the reservoir in place, oblivious to Jos’ wince.

Jos shrugs. “I’m not an engineer. I can turn a computer off, and on again. I can change batteries. Kyo and Adam helped me change a hard drive once. But, really? I’m some sort of weird not-quite biologist.”

“So, weird not-quite biologist, why not an arc reactor?” Tony has the insulin out on the table.

Jos resists the urge to snatch her pump back. “Because insulin degrades above about 30C.” She figures that Stark speaks metric. And, Jos likes metric. “How hot does an arc reactor run?”

“I’ve got a heat sink. A really good heat sink.” Tony fiddles with one of the metallic bracelets on his wrist, and takes another sip of his beer. “But its still warmer than than room temperature. What about one of those hydrogen-oxygen batteries? Just go out in the sun and re-charge?”

Jos laughs out loud. There is almost no mirth in the sound. “I’m a graduate student. I study poop, spit, and bellybutton jam using computers. What makes you think that I get out into the sun?”

Tony starts to laugh. “If Bruce didn’t get out, do you think he’d glow green?”

Pepper gives Tony a look that says just how tired of his shit she has becoming, but that she’ll never say anything because he is Tony Stark, and she loves him.

The waiter arrives, and takes their orders. Pepper gets something light, healthy and gluten free. Jos gets a cup of soup and the house salad, not because she particularly likes soup or salad but because its the most affordable thing on the menu. Stark orders a steak sandwich.

The waitress leaves, and Tony does unscrew the little cartridge of insulin. He fiddles with it enough to make a few drops squirt out onto the table. It’s not just the medication that she’s losing, it’s also re-priming the pump to account for the loss. On the list of things Jos enjoys, spending fifteen minutes in the ladies room with her pump hanging awkwardly out of her bra is not high on the list.

Of course, if she’d been thinking about that, she probably wouldn’t have given her pump to Tony in the first place. Actually, Jos is not entirely sure why she even showed Tony her pump. On the scheme of personal things that you do not casually lend people, an insulin pump ranks as somewhat more personal than a sex toy, but not quite as private as a bank statement stating how much money you spent on sex toys.

“Can I have my electronic, cyberpunk pancreas that is too mental for most people to handle back, now?” Jos requests, trying to get the situation back under control.

“Only if we can make a better one. Pepper, we should make a better one.”  

Pepper laughs. “Okay, Tony.”

She clips it back in with a muffled click, and slides it into her pocket. She presses the buttons to load and then prime, waiting for the soft hiss of medication. She knows what she’s doing, and its deliberate. Old habits, bad habits, they die hard.

“Tell me about the bellybutton jam,” the Stark billionaire demands.

Jos grins.“I work in a lab that studies the microbiome. You know, the trillions of bacteria in your body.”

Tony makes a face.

“You realize that you share 99% of your genome, but even identical twins don’t share all of their microbiome. And, it gets weirder because even if you have the same bacteria, you might have different amounts, and it can do different things. And, you’ve got different bacteria on your skin, and in your mouth and your gut and your vagina.” Jos turns bright red. “Well, not your vagina, but...” She makes a helpless motion towards Pepper.

Pepper leans over. “It’s okay. Tony still hasn’t taught his robots not to spill coffee on his crotch.”

“You built a robot that spills coffee on your crotch?” Jos is clearly jealous. “I wonder what that would do to your local microbiome...”

Pepper stares at Jos.

“I have a four track mind. If I don’t keep it on at least two tracks at once, my ADD starts to get to me, and I can’t focus.” Jos takes a calm sip of her drink. “Bacteria and either caffeine or NSAIDs are two of the usual ones. And my dissertation, but that’s really just Bacteria. And fan girling. Except that I’m totally not allowed to do that in public. So, can I sample you?”

It’s Tony’s turn to stare in confusion. “What the hell just happened?”

“Can I sample you?” Jos repeats, enthusiastically. “You know, the bacteria around yoru arc reactor.”

“There aren’t any bacteria around my arc reactor!” Tony insists. “I lined it in silver, you know, after the whole ... thing.”

A range of emotions flit across Pepper’s face: anger, concern, frustration, and then, sad acceptance.

“Let me sample, then. For science.” Jos grins.

Tony gives her a skeptical look. “Is it going to hurt? Bruce told me he wanted to sample something, and ended up impaling me with a sword!”

“It was a needle, Tony.” Pepper is not impressed. “Bruce doesn’t need a sword to hurt you.”

“Steve does it with his words.” Tony pouts.

“Oh, like you don’t constantly make fun of Steve,” Pepper accuses as their food arrives.

“I know you’re going to try to tell me about sampling, but can you just wait until we all eat something?” Apparently Tony Stark is psychic. Or Jos is too predictable.

“What other things have you done in Denver?” Pepper tries to make normal conversation. “Have you been hiking?”

Jos shrugs. “I don’t live that far from here, so I’m really just down for the convention during the day, and then home at night. I’ve climbed the Flatirons once or twice, but I’m not crazy enough to try Pike’s or Long’s.”

“What are those?” Tony Stark can apparently speak politely through a full mouth of meat, lettuce and chiabata.

“They’re some of the fourteeners,” Jos explains. “Fourteen thousand foot mountains. That’s why there are the fourteen cones on top of the airport.”

“And here I just thought that Denver had really good dancers.” Stark pouts. “You know, the seven cone bras of Madonna impersonators.”

Jos’ face almost ends up in her potato soup before her hand catches it.

“Tony, you’re scaring the graduate student,” Pepper accuses.

Tony laughs.

They finish lunch mostly without incident, comparing notes on the vendors, talks, and new tech.

When the bill comes, Pepper sweeps it off the table, much to Jos’ relief. She could pay her share, but it means she will be paying for dinner out of her own pocket. And she’s pretty sure the boys will want to go somewhere expensive. Possibly that brew pub at Broadway and Table Mesa that only takes cash and charges too much for wine. Even though she doesn’t really drink beer (too hoppy) and Drew doesn’t eat wheat.

The three of them walk back to the convention center, slowly. It’s balmy for January, but Jos’ knees are predicting snow tomorrow. As they talk, Jos explains her project to Tony. They pass through the double glass doors by the big blue bear, and she convinces him to give her enough contact information.

Tony Stark has large, beautiful, angular handwriting. It’s barely legible, but it looks pretty on paper. Like a modern day Da Vinci. Jos keeps the handwritten scrap of paper, because there’s no way the boys will believe her that she met Stark otherwise. Hell, the boys probably won’t believe her even with proof.

She scribbles down her own contact information - rounder, smaller, and in all caps - on a page of his program. “J.J. Woodhouse [jowo@university.edu](mailto:jowo@university.edu); Arc reactor Sampling & Battery operated insulin pump” He’s probably going to lose it somewhere rather quickly, or it will get covered up with something more important.

Tony shakes her, and thanks her for lunch. She’s a little star struck, but she manages to thank him, too. And then he tells her to watch her batteries. It’s all she can do not to reach in a childish way, but she manages to grin, and promise not to.

She checks her phone, and finds the missed text from Mark saying they’re all going to lunch if she wants to come. And then the text from Drew telling her that they’re back and going to Mark’s talk. She hurries off to find the boys.

In a corner of one of the ballrooms, she gets a gentle scolding for disappearing that morning (although they’re all computer people she’s a biologist, so it makes sense that she wants to go to different talks), and then a stronger talking to when they figure out the rent-a-medics got called. Mark suggests she go home, or something. Kyo suggests she eat something. Drew just shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Jos clutches her messenger bag, with the next piece of her thesis, and ignores the boys. She doesn’t really care what they say. It was worth it. For science.

**Author's Note:**

> Dan Axelrod, J. Craig Venter and Daniel Nocera (the PI who made his grad student swim in the Charles River) are all real scientists, and their accomplishments reflect what they've done in real life.
> 
> Jos’ experience of low blood sugar is based on my own, and not intended to be a reflection of anyone else’s experiences. 
> 
> The physics of the arc reactor are based on the information in this post: http://littlecircleoflight.tumblr.com/post/43560140119/physics-behind-the-arc-reactor. 
> 
> Insulin pump specs are based on a 2012 Animas Ping. 
> 
> The human microbiome is an active area of research. The more than 10 trillion cells involved play a huge, and not well defined role in health and disease. Some of the most promient links have been established between the microbiome and obsiety, althoug there are also links with cancer, depression, inflammatory bowel disease, and some other autoimmune conditions. Research into the skin and oral microbiomes has not progressed quite as far, although there are also links there.  
> You also get in big trouble for talking about it at the dinner table.


End file.
